Ellamental
by Danigirl32
Summary: AU Liason fic. An enforcer realizes his life has been changed forever.


Hey. It's fluffy, it's Liason. Just a little Nibble because I was missing writing about them.

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**Ella-mental**

Canvas FF # 227

_"Who's Been Sleeping In My Bed?"_

He was Jason Morgan. The most feared, ruthless mob enforcer on the eastern seaboard. When he wanted someone dead, they disappeared and weren't heard from ever again. When he walked into meetings at the right hand of his best friend, business partner and mob boss Sonny Corinthos, the men at the table sat forward at full respectful attention. When he stared down the barrel of his favorite Heckler 9mm, it was a guarantee if you were on the other side, you should be murmuring your last prayers because you were due to meet your maker. Or suffer for your sins.

So how was it that a little slip of a woman was changing his life.

It all started months ago when he was walking on the docks, curiously innocent all things considered. It was almost midnight. Though he was armed as usual, business was in a lull. Alcazar was keeping to himself, playing family man with his new wife Skye and their recent arrival, Lila Rae. The five families had their hands full with the newest DA, Ric Lansing trying to make a name for himself in the press by cracking down on their organizations. Shipping routes were disrupted, warehouses were raided, men were arrested, overall it was mass chaos.

Sonny was laying low as well, waiting Lansing out until the press scented another story and moved on to greener pastures. They were still trying to decide how to deal with the man. Stan was digging into his past but so far Lansing was so clean he squeaked, which was a red flag all by itself. Everyone had some secret, some thing in their past that they weren't necessarily proud of.

Except this guy. It made no difference to him. He could always just kill Lansing and end the worry but Sonny wanted to handle things quietly and avoid the speculation Lansing's death would bring. So Stan would dig, and eventually find something to put Lansing firmly under Sonny's thumb.

It was a nice little ritual. The mayor brought in a new shiny clean DA to impress the voters and gain public approval. Sonny corrupted the son of a bitch and put him on the payroll.

He didn't even want to think about how far Sonny went to get Alexis Davis.

Instead he turned his thoughts back to the little brunette that was making a mockery of his entire existence. How was he to know a simple walk would be the beginning of chaos. It began with a high pitched scream, him drawing his weapon and racing through the barely lit night to find some bastard attacking a woman.

Except, it hadn't remained that way. Color him amazed when the bit of nothing did a weird martial arts punch, snapping her attackers head back like a twig and followed up with a nice knee to the balls that had the guy on his knees groaning in agony.

"I hate men that can't take no for an answer," she muttered as she straightened the pretty dress, a swish of red material that made her look like she should be out for the evening at the No Name instead of here fighting off some asshole.

"For the record, Fucky Spencer, when I say no, I mean no." She reached down to pick up the purse at her feet and the streetlamp over her head hit her face just so.

He might have a hard time making out pictures and things like that, but he had no difficulty what so ever with taking in what amounted to probably the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Silky skin, like those pearls Sonny recieved in the last shipment from Tahiti. Eyes of blue flame and filled with so much anger that it made his lips curve in a smile before he realized it was coming.

Adrenaline put color in her cheeks, made that beauty burn, but it was her mouth that had him lingering. Full, painted a soft pink, her lips made him wonder. He was so caught up in the mental pictures rushing through his head, her mouth moving with his, her mouth parted on a sigh of desire, her mouth trailing across his body, that he missed her calling out to him.

"I said, hello up there?"

Jason blinked, then did it again, focusing on the scene before him instead of the erotic thoughts in his head. A guy dressed in a dark suit lay in the fetal position on the ground moaning in pain and clutching himself, while the wisp of woman who laid him out was standing there with her slender arms folded across her chest and an eyebrow arched in amusement.

It was a look he would become very familiar with.

"I," his voice was thick and husky, so he cleared his throat and began again, "I heard you scream, I thought you were in trouble." Then he remebered the gun in his hand and frowned as he put it away.

"I appreciate the gesture," and she went and completely screwed up his head by smiling.

And that's how this whole thing started.

Elizabeth Webber. That's her name. She's a nurse over at GH, just transfered in from Colorado with her five year old son Cameron. So far she was enjoying her work, her new apartment, her new friends, one of which just happened to be his younger sister Emily.

She isn't one of those fussy women. Most of the time he found her in her scrubs or in a pair of jeans and a sweater with all of that thick mahogany hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was covered with paint or dirt from playing with her son so much that he should be able to put her out of his head.

Mothers weren't supposed to make him think of sex and heat and being so aroused he felt like his skin was too damned tight. Only she was destroying that myth. He wasn't the kind of man who played in sand boxes and pushed swings, those whispers of borg weren't fiction. Except the kid was cute. Especially when he crawled into his lap for a story.

Seeing them play together tugged at something in his gut and when they laughed, strange things happened. Jason Morgan, the man the PCPD would love to put behind bars, the man who was better alone and preferred to keep it that way, he laughed right along with them.

She brought him _stuff_. Weird stuff, like brownies that he didn't really like but ate them because she made them for him. He never did get the chocolate thing she was so big on. Or leather gloves, to which she would whisper with a mischievous grin, so he wouldn't leave fingerprints when he was out being a bad boy.

Could he help it, if those words conjured thoughts that had nothing to do with business and everything about spreading her hair across his pillow and finally decifering the mysteries of the woman invading his life.

Somehow she ended up with a key to his apartment. Okay, so he gave it to her so that she wouldn't be standing out in the hall waiting for him. The days when he came home from the coffee warehouse to find her and Cam eating dinner had him out of sorts. She would gesture to the kitchen, where his plate was waiting for him and tell him to join them.

The days he came home to the empty apartment, left him cold and reminded him how alone things were without them.

Ella nagged him to let her drive his bike. Now he was all for riding, he got a kick out of the way she would wrap those arms around his waist and practically melt into his body until they were one. Drive, now that was out of the question, no matter how pretty that pout of hers was.

The first day he called her Ella, she had stared up at him in shock. How could he call her Elizabeth? Big mouth full of name for a woman who made him crazy. He couldn't yell, _'Elizabeth stop tickling me,' _in the middle of one of those pillow fights she insisted on starting when she felt he was being too serious.

'Elizabeth, you have to remember to take the damned guard to the park with you and Cam,' because he would have to kill someone if she or that little boy were hurt.

Or _'Elizabeth, hurry up and come on so we won't be late for dinner.'_ When she couldn't decide to wear the red skirt or the brown one, and both made her legs look like perfection and he spent most of the night glaring at men who couldn't seem to keep their eyes in their head.

She was Ella. _His Ella_, he accepted because she sure as hell had made a claim on him and wasn't shy about reminding people of it either. He would have grunted with derison had someone suggested that this was a pet name along the lines of baby, sweetheart, sugarlips. Well, sugarlips he could live with. Privately of course.

So how did he end up here? With this woman who invaded his world.

His life.

His heart.

None of that really mattered, he figured as he looked down at the two dark heads hogging his pillow this lazy Sunday morning. The slender fingers twined with his resting on the back of the softly snoring boy who had finally called him Daddy this morning gave him something he'd never thought a man like him could have. Something pure and wonderful and that which he'd give his soul to protect. It didn't have a name, you couldn't describe something so full of grace.

But if he had to, well, _Ella-mental _was about as close as he could get.


End file.
